


The Sub Whisperer

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, First Time, M/M, Power Exchange, Propositions, clothed dom naked sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: “You want that,” Coulson asserts, not a question.“Yes, Sir.” Steve’s voice is low and breathy, all his assumptions evaporating along with any sense of shame he had left. Coulson holds his gaze for another long moment, then slaps Steve hard across the face.“You’re lying,” Coulson declares, and then gets right up against Steve’s front before he can protest, mouth tipped up to Steve’s ear next to his stinging cheek. “Youneedthat.”
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Steve Rogers
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81





	The Sub Whisperer

**Author's Note:**

> This bunny has been on my list since shortly after I saw the first Avengers movie. It's election night and I'm feeling very isolated, so writing anxiety porn seemed like a good idea :-)

It’s hard to overestimate how embarrassing it is, having to go to Tony about this. But, the thing is, the more Steve attempts to Google what he needs to know, the more lost he becomes. And Tony, well… Tony self-identifies as a slut without blinking an eye, is more-or-less openly bisexual, and never laughs at Steve when he has a real, honest question about the future.

Tonight is no different, though Tony’s eyes do go quite wide.

“No shit.” 

Steve feels his cheeks go warm and shrugs.

“Huh.” Tony cocks his head to the side. “Like, playful spankings and that sort of thing, or  _ rough _ rough?”

“The second one.” Steve stares at his shoes. “Uh… I can take a lot.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the data,” Tony counters with a little smirk, but it’s not unfriendly. “What about D/s stuff?”

“Pardon?”

“You just like a guy who’s rough in bed, or one who will tell you what to do? Or…  _ make _ you do it?”

“Uh, all of those. But not anyone who’s gonna talk to the press. That’s part of why I asked you. I figured you’d know.” 

“Well,” Tony grimaces. “There are a couple of tell-all books you  _ definitely _ shouldn’t read, but in percentage terms my track record’s pretty good. Actually, I have a really obvious answer, zero risk in that department, if you’re good with really intense.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “That sounds perfect.” 

“All right,” Tony smiles. “Agent.” He doesn’t say more, though, and Steve frowns in confusion.

“Agent… who?”

“Agent Agent. Coulson. The sub whisperer,” Tony laughs, and Steve blinks for a moment, unwilling to put two and two together. 

“ _ Really _ ?” Coulson only came back from the dead a few months ago, and Steve’s certainly never thought of him in a  _ sexual _ context. If nothing else, the man’s kind of embarrassing crush on him makes it hard to think of Coulson giving him orders outside of a mission. 

“Oh yeah. It’s his thing. He looks at you and just  _ knows _ what you need.” Tony shakes his head and his tone is fond, knowing. “He sees people. It’s not just his job, it’s  _ him _ .”

“Huh.” It’s still hard for Steve to see it, though he can’t deny that Coulson has the ability to command a room when he’s not busy being starstruck by Captain America. He’s got a reputation among the SHIELD agents for not taking shit from anyone, and everyone except for Tony seems to address him formally by instinct.

_ Still _ .

Steve feels a little shitty asking JARVIS to redirect Coulson to his own suite the next time he’s at the Tower, but it’s the easiest way to see the man in an informal setting without raising any alarms. Steve’s almost embarrassed by how little sexy clothing he owns, and considers going shirtless before landing on a tight grey t-shirt and black sweats. It’s nothing like what he used to wear, cruising by the docks, but it’ll do, and maybe help him to conceptualize the power difference in contrast to Coulson’s usual suit and tie. Coulson looks appreciative, at least, his eyes taking in Steve’s pebbled nipples for a fraction of a second before they land on his face.

“Captain. What can I do for you?”

“Come in, please, Sir. And call me Steve.”

Coulson pauses for just a beat before he steps inside the door Steve’s holding open. “All right, Steve. Then you should call me Phil.”

“I think I’d be more comfortable with Sir,” Steve admits, and he feels his cheeks go pink. He starts to lead Coulson inside and then stops, hesitating between sitting down on the sofa or taking the chair in case it doesn’t go as he planned. He pauses long enough that Coulson raises his eyebrows, expectantly.

“Would you?” Something subtle shifts in his tone, feeling Steve out, but also more… more. His intonation makes it sound more like a statement than a question, like an observation.

“For this conversation… yes, please.” Steve’s fingers twist together for a moment, behind his back, and then he just blurts it out. He’s still not totally convinced Coulson will be what he needs, but he’s  _ an option _ , which is more than Steve’s had for a year. “I asked Tony if he knew any trustworthy men into rough trade,” he admits. “Your name came up.”

“Ah.” A little smile comes over Coulson’s lips. “I trust we agree that anything further said in this room remains confidential?”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve may not be sure that Coulson’s the one for him, but he’s always been polite. He’s also fascinated by the way Coulson’s microexpressions shift from the forgiving, genial man who blends into the background when he’s not fanboying over Cap to those of someone  _ very _ comfortable being in control. 

“Stark isn’t wrong. To clarify, I top exclusively. But that doesn’t seem like it’ll be a problem.”

“...definitely not, Sir.” Steve admits. “I, uh… I have experience. And a high pain tolerance. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes.” Coulson steps forward, and though he’s looking up at Steve, there’s a kind of illusion that the unquestionable command in his stare creates. Steve  _ feels _ smaller. “I use the traffic light system—red if you need to call an immediate stop, yellow if you need a moment to breathe or communicate. Are any types of pain off limits? Other than anything that would categorically cause a baseline human permanent damage, that’s not my kink.”

“Uh… no. I’m pretty comfortable with pain,” Steve admits. His brain is churning, mostly a litany of  _ holy shit. What?? _ Coulson’s flat, no-nonsense tone, paired with his rather direct manner, is deeply sexy.

“I’ll be upfront with you. Pain isn’t my main goal in a scene.”

“Oh. What is?” 

“Mutual satisfaction.” His tone is mild, but Steve’s seeing pretty much everything about this man in a new light, and something about his smile promises unforeseen depths. “And the things I find most satisfying? Control. Discipline. Power exchange.” Steve licks his lips. “I’m very strict, Steven. Exacting. Some might say cruel.” 

“Oh,” Steve whispers. His mouth is dry. Coulson meets his gaze and then suddenly, without warning, darts his hands between Steve’s legs and grabs him firmly by the balls. Steve gasps in a breath, tears coming to his eyes. He’s not grabbing as hard as he  _ could _ , but certainly enough to feel it. Steve’s dick fattens up on cue.

“You want that,” Coulson asserts, not a question.

“Yes, Sir.” Steve’s voice is low and breathy, all his assumptions evaporating along with any sense of shame he had left. Coulson holds his gaze for another long moment, then slaps Steve hard across the face.

“You’re lying,” Coulson declares, and then gets right up against Steve’s front before he can protest, mouth tipped up to Steve’s ear next to his stinging cheek. “You  _ need _ that.” Steve whimpers and without any conscious thought, drops to the carpet. Fortunately, Coulson relinquishes his grip, and his hand shifts to the back of Steve’s neck when he presses his forehead to Coulson’s thigh. “Needy boy,” Coulson teases, and Steve whimpers again. “You’re wearing too many clothes. Do something about that.”

Eagerly, Steve tugs his shirt over his head, tosses it into a corner out of their path to either the sofa or the bedroom, and then shoves his sweats down to his knees. He’s not even wearing underwear, which Coulson seems to appreciate by the look in his eyes when Steve glances up, and it’s easy enough to slide the pants under his shins, out from under his ankles, and then wing them in the same direction. 

“That’s more like it.” Coulson looks a little amused, ruffling Steve’s hair. “Put your mouth on my shoe. And don’t be sloppy about it.”

Steve tips forward, blushing, wondering exactly what “sloppy” means in this context. Can he lick, if he doesn’t drool? Not certain, he presses a kiss to the toe of one shoe, hands neatly clasped behind his back. He has more balance since the serum, and it’s easy to cantilever himself forward, applying his lips to the leather in delicate presses. That holds for a minute, before Coulson moves his other shoe to press down against the back of Steve’s neck, and he’s both faceplanting and moaning, his cheek forced into the carpet. 

“Now, Steven. What does a good slut say?”

Steve gasps, his toes curling and his hands clasping hard at each other. He hopes he gets rug burn on his face.

“Thank you. Sir.”


End file.
